Born Again Virgin

Against all better judgement, I went out today and got a cell phone for use in Canada and (apparently) the U.S. As many of you know, I've been resisting this step for a long time now and have only ever owned a cell phone out of necessity when I was living in Mexico and didn't have a land line coming into my apartment. So for $20 a month (plus tax), I have 200 minutes for incoming and outgoing calls. The only part of cell phone usage that I really liked was text messaging so I'm paying another $3 a month (plus tax) for the privilege of sending text messages to people in Canada and the U.S.

The catalyst was actually my 70-year-old mother who called me one night to tell me that she and her friend, Helen, were "Virgins". They'd been talked into buying cell phones by some guy at the mall. They both drive so a cell phone is probably a good idea (especially in this cold, cold weather). Since I don't drive, what's my excuse? Well, it's pretty difficult to find a working pay phone in this City. Plus I think it costs more than 25 cents now (I remember when it cost a dime!). There are a number of times when I'm out and about when I need to confab with my significant other (he has a Blackberry through his work) so I thought this was the lessor of two evils.

I went with Virgin because it was cheap (around $25 per month, in total); they have no extra charges for the service or 911 (everyone else charges $6.95+ per month for these items) and all the extras (calling waiting, call answer, call forwarding, etc.) are included in the price. Plus, I can manage the account online which means no trying to call real people to get answers to questions about my account. And there's no contract so I can change or cancel it at any time. So wish me luck and if you want to call me, send me an email for my number (which I can't remember right now -- must look in the box when I get home). LOL

This is NOT a Knitting Blog (not that there's anything wrong with that)

I used to knit quite a bit. In fact, I've made four adult-size Fair Isle sweaters "in the round". However, it's been a while since I've picked up any needles. After reading CAP's blog for a couple of months now, I've kind of had a hankering to start knitting again. I know, I know ... the power of persuasion. But I always liked knitting so I thought I would give it a shot, especially after she posted this really easy pattern for a "Mistake" Rib Stitch scarf on January 17th. I thought it was a great way to get back into knitting and I've been sort of obsessed with scarves lately.

So I bought some wool at Walmart. Remember when all department stores used to carry wool and fabrics and other "crafty" wares? Not anymore ... but I did find some great "wool" at Walmart for under $5 and the needles were even less. So for a small investment, I've got myself the makings for a beautiful homemade scarf. Unfortunately, I cannot wear wool or mohair or anything remotely related to a sheep next to my skin. So I bought 100% Acrylic "wool" and it is soft, luxurious and washable.

Here is the ball of acrylic product I bought:














And here are the sexy lavendar metal needles I bought. I wasn't sure of the size to buy because I wanted the scarf to be big, but not too big, so I settled on size 11(US) or 8 mm (Canada). Here's what they look like:














So then I started knitting. Actually, the pattern is K2, P2 so it's fairly easy and mindless. We watched the Godfather last night for about 4 hours and then I put in a few more hours this afternoon and the scarf is already over three feet long!














Anyway, I am having a lot of fun and Rob can't believe how fast the scarf is growing! LOL

Monster Children

I recently read this on an internet bulletin board:

I will be travelling to PV in a couple weeks with my family. My daughter (6) is a VERY picky eater -- no point in fighting her, she's stubborn, too -- so we're thinking of bringing along her favourite brand of peanut butter, ketchup and cheese slices. I know, she sounds awful, but she's a lovely girl, eating habits notwithstanding... I know that ketchup is readily available at the resort we're staying at, but not her brand (I know, I know...) My question is, is it 'legal' to import a small amount of these items for our personal use? It would be just enough for a week's stay. Thanks!

Being non-breeders, my girlfriends and I had a field day with this one! One of us thought the family should "stay home". Another one of us proclaimed that monster children grow into monster adults! I thought she would probably grow up to become a serial killer. LOL

We've all met children like this and the parents who coddle them in order to "keep the peace". We experienced a few of them when we were in Mexico, using the hallways of the condo as their "playground" or acting up around the pool. The one at the pool was especially evil since she insisted on emitting ear-splitting screeches every time her parents did not watch her performances in the pool. I'm actually surprised everyone's sunglasses didn't shatter from the level of this girl's screams. Her parents just smiled and capitulated to her every whim. I wanted to drown her.

My brother used to be a "problem" child. He was very hyper-active and loud. Well, to be fair, we were all loud on my Dad's side of the family because of that Italian blood. My Mom used to cringe whenever the whole "tribe" got together. My Dad has five sisters and even one or two of them in a small room can make a lot of noise! So whenever we were invited anywhere as a family, a familiar question was "Are you going to bring Greg?" I actually enjoyed having my brother be the centre of attention -- it left me free to do my own thing without any supervision. Haha ...

We finally decided that these monster children and their parents need an attitude adjustment. You only need to watch one episode of Super Nanny with Jo Frost to understand this. Once you let the kids run the show, it's becomes "all about them". If the parents of this finicky six-year-old don't fix this now, Miss Thing will be ordering peanut butter, ketchup and cheese sandwiches well into her 30s!

It's Snow Laughing Matter ...

The winter storm this past weekend has got people talking about the Blizzard of 1999. I'm sick to DEATH of people making fun of Toronto for calling in the military! The people who are doing this obviously didn't live here at the time. We received approximately 120 cms of snow in a little over two weeks. That is four fucking feet of snow, plus mind numbing temperatures and high winds for weeks on end. It was a disaster! Driving was impossible. Getting to work was ridiculous. Finding places to put the snow was hopeless. Just when we got the roads, driveways and sidewalks cleared, we would get another foot or more of snow.

Why doesn't anyone make fun of the people in Quebec during the ice storm of 1998? They called in the military to help them too! So why then are we idiots for doing the same thing? Is it because snow is white and fluffy and therefore less demonized than cold, hard, despicable ice? I don't think so. I think people just like to make fun of Toronto. It pisses me off because those weeks in January 1999 were absolutely horrible; it was extremely scary and I would not want to repeat them for anything.

So just stop it with the Toronto-bashing. Sheesh.

Daddy's Girl

I'm a Daddy's Girl and proud to admit it! My Dad and I have always been very close. He is celebrating his 75th birthday today and while I am accepting of the fact that I'm going to be 50 next year, I find it difficult to believe that my Dad is 3/4 of a century old. He has always seemed so young and full of life to me. I guess that's the way it is with the ones we love -- we see them as they are now but our hearts remember them the way they were when we first learned to love them.

Happy Birthday Dad! I love you.

More Fun With Words

I found this little gem on our Employee Assistance website yesterday:

Peter and Ellen, on the other hand, find family gatherings a source of holiday woes. First, they drive two hours to Peter's parents' home in the country for brunch. Then, they get in the car and drive another two hours to Ellen's mother's home in the city for the holiday dinner. Peter and Ellen are not only tense from the driving and rushing around, but also because neither one of them really feels comfortable with each other's in-laws.

Wouldn't "each other's in-laws" actually refer to their OWN parents???

It’s The Most Stressful Time of the Year!

I watch Breakfast Television every weekday morning and today, Tracy was out in front of Union Station asking people how they are “coping” with the stress of the upcoming holiday season. This topic always comes up in December and makes me laugh. I thought it was supposed to be “the most wonderful time of year”?

I can hear it in people’s voices in the office when they’re talking about the gifts they have to (1) find (2) buy and (3) eventually pay for. Rob commented that once Xmas is over, their stress continues in anticipation of the delivery of their credit card bills. I don’t understand why people allow themselves to be forced into meaningless consumer relationships that thrive on personal debt.

I gave up Xmas a long time ago. I don't buy gifts and I don't accept gifts. I donate money to charity (this year's charity is "Give A Day's Pay to AIDS"). And in response to people’s queries about whether I’m ready for Xmas, I simply say: “I don’t do Xmas.”

I am boycotting the firm's Xmas party and all luncheons. I am staying away from the malls until 2008. I'm hopping on a plane to Mexico on December 25. I'm through with all the marketing BULLSHIT that tells us we have “do” certain things on certain days of the year.

Cherish your friends and family year round. Give gifts when you feel like it. Send cards when someone needs a lift. Pick your own heroes. Don't get sucked in by the idiot box and the media's false worship of wafer-thin socialites who serve no useful purpose in life other than to make headlines.

Enjoy a stress-free holiday by spreading the good cheer over all 365 days, not just one.

Making Your Bed and Lying In It

Rob and I went to DC this past weekend and stayed at the Holiday Inn in Georgetown. It's an old hotel, with sleepy service (the front desk people would much rather talk to each other than to any of the customers on the paying side of the counter) and outdated furnishings ("Hello? The '80s called and they want their curtains back!"). The place was convenient to where we needed to be and we've stayed there before so it's not like we were surprised by the conditions.

When it came time to get into bed on Saturday night, I turned down the bedspread to find the weirdest combination of bedding I've ever seen on a hotel bed anywhere:

1. The bottom "fitted" sheet was not pulled fully onto the mattress so by the simple act of sitting on the side of the bed, the sheet came completely off.

2. The top sheet came up to the top of the bed and was folded over almost 24".

3. The blanket on top of this came up approximately 2/3 of the bed. When I was lying down, the blanket came to my waist.

4. There was another sheet ON TOP of the blanket. WTF?!!! It came up to my shoulder level.

At some point during the night, we both woke up freezing. I didn't have enough covers on me and couldn't pull the blanket up any further than my waist. Plus the bottom sheet has pulled free of the mattress at my feet. So I got up at 3AM, tore the bed apart and remade it to my satisfaction.

I started remaking the bed at Rob's place, even before I moved in. He used to jokingly tell everyone that "the military has been in to make the bed" and he wasn't too far off the truth!

I had the whole bedmaking thing down pat during Basic Training. Since we were always lined up alphabetically, two of my best buddies were Joanne McPhee (in line ahead of me) and Denise Noseworthy (in line behind me). Noseworthy was 1/4" short of 6 feet tall so we would get her to lie under the bed (pulling the bottom sheet tight through the spring platform) while Jo and I worked our magic on the top of the bed. The bottom sheet had 45 degree angled corners, the black stripe in the gray wool DND blanket ran down the centre of the bed and the top sheet was folded exactly 18" over the top edge of the blanket. The pillow also had to be pummelled into a certain dimension.

By the end of our 10 weeks together, the three of us could make three beds in 20 minutes. And we only ever slept in our beds the night before we were being issued clean linens (once a week). I slept on top in my sleeping bag the rest of the time.

Compare and Contrast

I'm addicted to those design shows where they re-do someone's bedroom or bathroom or livingroom or diningroom or whatever room. I never thought I had a creative bone in my body but apparently I've learned a few things watching those shows! Here are some examples of what we've been able to accomplish at home recently (click for larger pics).

Bedroom Before:



Bedroom After:



Livingroom Before:



Livingroom After:



Diningroom Before:



Diningroom After:



Fireplace Before (it's the grey slate in the far right of the photo):



Fireplace After (note the use of Mexican tiles in the new mantle):



Apparently, I am a Design Goddess after all! :)

Fun With Words

There has been some debate on another blog about the proper spelling of the word "y'all". It is a southern idiom and a contraction of "you all" (in Spanish, we say "ustedes" which cannot be contracted). The rules say that when using an apostrophe to create a contraction, it replaces missing letters. Therefore "you all" would contract to "y'all" with the apostophe replacing the letters "ou" from the word "you".

However, apparently in the South, they don't say "you" -- they say "ya" and therefore argue that the proper contraction is "ya'll", with the apostrophe replacing the "a" in "all". I somehow doubt people in the South who eschew the use of contractions are walking around saying "ya all" but this is what they are trying to make us believe. Whatever ...

On the subway this morning, I noticed a poster advertising the Downtown Yonge Kidzfest with a Window Wonderland (you can see the poster here). Note the second sentence in this beauty: "RYERSON STUDENTS MUST CREATE HOLIDAY WINDOW DISPLAYS ON A BUDGET OF $100. COME DOWN AND SEE HOW THEY FAIR." (emphasis added)

You would think that the person who designed this poster should have a better command of the English language. I'm only writing a blog so my slip-ups (I call them "typos" ... tee hee) are not plastered all over the subway. By the way, this obsession started long before I started reading Lynne Truss' grammar books (note the correct use of the possessive apostrophe here!). :)

My Commute This Morning

You all know how much I love taking the subway to work in the mornings (it is the only thing I don't like about my new living arrangement). Lately, the subway has been PACKED in the mornings, with people jammed right up against the doors and not moving when the doors open to allow other people to get on the train (even though the middle of the car is empty).

This morning, it was the same scenario but I stepped on anyway and this guy stepped on right behind me. By the time we got to the next stop, I was hot, cranky and not at all sure this guy behind me was going to behave himself, so I pushed my way back off the train, vowing to wait as long as possible for a comfortable ride into work.

Less than two minutes later, an empty train pulled into the station and I got on totally empty car. I had the entire car to myself! It was amazing. I laughed out loud at the joy of it! :)

The Good Old Days

This weekend, Rob and I had our first overnight guest since the renovations were completed. My friend since Grade 4, Mary Ann ("MAK") arrived on Saturday afternoon. MAK is a real estate agent so we were really interested in her "professional" opinion of the condo. I am happy to report that her initial market "eval" was extremely positive and our attempts to create a warm and inviting home were confirmed by her experienced eye and friendly nature.

While she was here, I dug out a photo album with old photos in it so that I could show Rob how she looked in a red polkadot bikini! Once we started taking that walk down the road of remembrances, I came across a bunch of black and white photos from my formative years. Some of these are just too cute not to share ...

Obviously, my love for shoes and fashion started after this photo was taken!


My inordinate fondness for stuffed animals was also deeply ingrained during the first 12 months of my life -- this bear looks bigger than I do!


My life changed dramatically when my brother was born but there are still days when I let him worship his big sister (on the Dodge).


I learned the price of beauty early in the 1960s ...


I believe my disdain for organized religion commenced after I was forced to wear this little number ...


I used to be skinny (too bad I also looked like a boy). No wonder my Dad insisted I get a "girl's" bike ...


And finally, the famous bikini shot. Mary Ann looks pretty much the same (after two kids, no less!) but I've filled out somewhat since this photo was taken in the 70s.

Bah, Humbug!

Ho-ho-hold the display business
HELEN GODFREY (Globe & Mail - November 9, 2007)

Toronto -- Here is an idea whose time may have come: Stores with elaborate Christmas window displays before Nov. 25 should be fined a $1,000 a day. They can make the cheques out to the United Way or Food Bank.

I know they've probably had their holiday merchandise on hand since the boxcar arrived from China in August, but I resent having the season thrust at me. Christmas used to be such an enjoyable time of year.

This woman is overstating the obvious (and I could kiss her for it). Every year, it seems that this Xmas crap starts earlier and earlier. This year, the Santas were competing with the Satans on All Hallows Eve. BTW, I refuse to type "Christ"mas because if God was still around (you know he's not or none of this would be happening), he would regret the hell out of lending his name to this unholy-holiday.

My family knows how much I hate Xmas but I still had to remind my Mom after she asked me, "Tell me again why you hate Xmas so much?" *sigh* It was difficult to explain to Rob. It will be our first Xmas together and implored him NOT to put up a tree. And forget my friend Mary Ann. She LOVES Xmas ... and snow ... and skiing. I'm really starting to worry about her. Anyway, here are the reasons:

1. It happens in December. When it's cold. And snowy. Nothing good can come from this type of weather.

2. The commercials start in OCTOBER. WTF?

3. The music sucks. Actually, it is enough to drive you to drink (but not drink and drive because that would be illegal). When is the last time anyone wrote a NEW Xmas song? It's all the same old crap, regurgitated by geezer rockstars with non-existent careers and too many grandchildren.

4. It turns normal people into weirdos and weirdos into lunatics who can talk about nothing other than buying gifts for people who don't need anything and weird food like eggnog and pudding. *barf*

5. It makes it impossible for anti-Xmas people like me and my friend Heidi to go into the underground at lunchtime to buy food or tampons. LOL

So when it comes to Xmas, I JUST SAY NO!!!

My Gynie Has A Website

Nothing generates fear in a woman more than anticipating a trip to the gynaecologist. Actually, I’ve never had a gynaecologist before so when my doctor informed me that he was referring me to one, I was quite nervous. My last two PAP tests came back inconclusive. Apparently my cervix is (1) just too small or (2) just too evasive for my family doctor to find and capture its cells. Actually, I know it is a little bit off centre but I’ve never been sent elsewhere because of it! Bad, bad cervix.

Initially, I was scheduled to meet with Dr. Gifford-Jones (not his real name but his nom de plume) last Wednesday but jury duty interfered. What's worse than a trip to the stirrups? JURY DUTY! Unfortunately, jury duty turned out to be a big "non event" because, while we were initially told we were required at the Court House for three days (thereby giving me ample time to plow through three unread novels desperately needing my attention), we were dismissed after the first day. What a letdown! After all these years of working in legal, I've never experienced a jury trial. Oh well, I'll get my chance in another three years.

So anyway, back to my new best friend, Dr. G-F. I had to meet him at the clinic where my family doctor also has his practice. Since Dr. G-F is only at the clinic one day a week, he doesn't have a receptionist and sees patients through the walk-in clinic. I arrived a few minutes early and sat waiting, trying to calm my butterflies. Shortly thereafter, the doctor came into the waiting room and called my name, introducing himself to me. What service! We sat in his office to discuss the "procedure" and he told me a little bit about himself. At age 83, he has done more than 150,000 pelvic exams. I felt I was in good hands, both literally and figuratively. He assured me he was a "gentle fellow".

All of my initial concerns dissipated under his warm, wonderful demeanor. I was actually looking forward to this! (Well, not really but I was certainly a lot calmer than when I arrived.) The examination went smoothly and everything checked out normally. After I dressed, we talked in his office for a few minutes about writing, working, relationships, dating websites, marriage and birth control. I could have talked to him for hours, he is such an interesting man! Anyway, here is the link to his various health-related articles. They are informative, humourous and timely: Health Links

Remembering a Family Hero

I remember spending a lot of time at the townshouse in Waterloo that was home to my Uncle Ken and his family after they made the move from Windsor. I was a young teenager in the early 1970s and my seven cousins formed a raucous crowd so different from my own small family. I loved spending time with them. My cousins Maggie and Teresa became the sisters I never had. I knew I qualified as family simply by surname but the love shown to me by my Uncle Ken and Aunt Theresa indicated that I had become an honourary member of their brood as well.

I remember the late nights at my parents' home with their playing cards with my Aunt and Uncle for hours. I remember the sounds of my Dad banging the cards on the kitchen table, the clink of highball glasses and the smell of my Uncle Ken's cigarettes. I also remember the commotion that resulted whenever my Mom and Aunt Theresa won a hand of euchre. The men loudly accused the women of cheating and this increased the noise level. I struggled to stay awake so I could listen to them laughing.

I remember the road trips I made with Maggie and Teresa to London after my Aunt and Uncle moved there in the early 1980s. Aunt Theresa often had some story to tell us about her latest attempt to scare the crap out of my Uncle by hiding behind the door at the top of the stairs, jumping out and yelling "BOO"! Uncle Ken always had some homemade craft to show me, like the infamous "footstool" with real running shoes on the four legs. I never found it too difficult to sweet talk him into making me one of his tart lemon meringue pies.

I remember a visit from my Uncle Ken after I got married and moved to Ottawa. Before he retired, he came there on Post Office business and took me to dinner at a revolving restaurant. We had a grand time talking about the family and the "olden" days. We laughed like hell when we discovered my purse had remained intact on the window ledge while we circled the restaurant for over an hour!

I remember my Dad and I meeting Ken, my Aunt and my cousins on King Street in Waterloo across from the Ali Baba Steakhouse to watch the Oktoberfest parade every Thanksgiving Monday. Uncle Ken and my Dad entertained the crowd with their smartass remarks to all parade participants, especially the two mayors and sports celebrities. I can still see the pride on my Uncle's face and the tears in his eyes as he saluted the dwindling number of verterans marching in the parade, from his wheelchair.

I remember going to see him in the London Veterans Hospital after his stroke and seeing the sparkle in his eye when he saw me. His mind remained sharp but not as sharp as his tongue as he barked his orders to the nursing staff. I pitied them from my exalted status of Favourite Niece. I tried to talk him into moving closer so we could see him more often but he was stubborn to the end and insisted on ending his days there.

I remember my cousin Mark running across the funeral home parking lot on that cold November day to pass a photo of his late father to my Dad through the open window of the car. And I remember my Dad's frosty breath as he told Mark, "Your Dad was my hero".

In fond remembrance of my Uncle Ken, who left us on November 2, 1998. You are gone but never forgotten.

Stupid People (or if I ran the world, it would be perfect!)

When I leave work at 4:30PM, I usually go out the Bay Street exit and head south for half a block to the lights. Sometimes, I need to go north. Goddess forgive me! Unfortunately, half of the people who live outside the city are heading SOUTH, to Union station, so they can get on the commuter trains and head out of the city and back to their cozy bedroom communities. These cities generally have an area code of 905. Toronto’s is 416. We therefore called them “905ers” and, while some of them are friends of mine, the ones who refuse to give me 2” of spare sidewalk deserve a bitch slap to the head. HELLO! I live in Toronto! My property taxes PAY for the fucking sidewalk you’re walking on so don’t you DARE push me out of the way so you can catch your precious train! GRRR!!!

Why do I continue to get involved financially with my friends? Is it because I am a nice person? Is it because I inherently trust my friends to be responsible adults? Is it because I always have money and they don’t? I have one friend in particular who never pays me back when she says she’s going to pay me back. Ergo, I have to send her emails, constantly reminding her of the outstanding debt. Then, when she does have the money, she makes me come and get it from her or she gives me $12.50 in nickels and dimes in a Ziploc bag. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? As far as I’m concerned, she should be hand delivering it to me with sugar on top, and thanking me profusely for giving her to loan in the first place. Never again. GRRR!!!

What is it with people who bring strollers on to public transport and then block the aisles? I am fairly dexterous. Even in my Anne Klein boots with the 3” heel I can run for the streetcar, carry home 20 pounds of groceries and jump over 2’ puddles. (In fact, I don’t buy any type of footwear unless I can run full tilt in them – except maybe slippers.) Some stupid man with a stupid kid in a stupid stroller was on the bus this morning. He sat in the first seat and parked the kid and the stroller in front of him. As a result, everyone who got on to the bus had to turn sideways and walk through a space less than a foot wide, including the crippled, almost blind man with the cane, the young father trying to hold on to his two rambunctious toddlers and the fat woman with her shopping cart. GET A CLUE PEOPLE! You are inconveniencing a whole bunch of people here and potentially causing an accident. I blame the bus driver who should have fixed this problem from the get go. GRRR!!!

Then there is this woman I work with -- she sits behind me and we share a work space with a low dividing wall between us. It is a nice office and most of the people here are really great and friendly. I was moved into this space while I as away on vacation and while I was disappointed with the switch, I really didn't have a lot of input into the process so I just accepted it and got on with the job. Unfortunately, this woman has not said "boo" to me since I started working here. One of the other women came over, shook my hand, introduced herself and welcomed me to the neighbourhood. This other one can't even say "good morning", "goodbye",
"shut up" or "drop dead". I even tried to make small talk with her in the coffee room one morning but she walked out on me in the middle of a sentence. Now most of you know that I am a fairly sociable person but how do you deal with this crap? It sure makes coming to work a pleasant experience ... NOT! I am not used to ignoring another human being, no matter how weird they are. GRRR!!!

What the fuck is wrong with people?

Good Deeds

Why is it when you do something nice for someone else, you feel better than when someone does something nice for you? This morning, as I was crossing the intersection at Front and Yonge, I saw a young Asian woman walking around the corner and heard a distinct “ping”. She looked down quickly but kept walking. Having lost an earring on the street many, many years ago (I ignored the “ping” sound and have been searching ever since!), I decided to take a closer look.

There on the ground, behind the light pole, was a silver chain bracelet with a large fob clasp which had fallen off her delicate wrist. It looked expensive. Even if it wasn’t, I knew it was probably important to the owner. I scooped it up and went racing up Yonge Street in pursuit of the owner. I am always hesitant to stop strangers on the street by touching them but this time, I didn’t hesitate.

“Excuse me!” I cried.

She stopped and turned towards me, looking startled.

“Is this yours?” I asked, holding the bracelet out towards her.

Her eyes opened wide when she saw what I was holding and then exclaimed, “Oh yes it is!”

“I heard you drop it and saw you look but decided I would check the spot and there it was.”

Then she smiled a smile of gratitude, “Thank you SO much!”

The look of her face made my day.

Kindness To Canadians Abroad

I ran across this wonderful story today while reading the Acts of Kindness section in the online version of the Toronto Star. I thought it was poignant and just loved the Vimy connection.

I had just finished a foreign study term in Switzerland and had [enough] time before my flight to Toronto from Paris to see Vimy Ridge, something I had always thought was important.

Unfortunately I missed a connection in Brussels on my way and therefore missed the shuttle to the 90th Anniversary Memorial Service when I arrived in Arras. I took a bus from Arras the next day to Vimy which was still a ways from the memorial, but I decided I would walk through the countryside regardless.

I had walked for five minutes when a little car pulled up beside me and an elderly man asked if I was Canadian. After telling him in my broken French that I was, he offered to drive me to the memorial.

He told me he picked up Canadians every time he saw them, because he was thankful for the efforts during the world wars. He even promised to pick me up afterwards.

When I returned to the visitors centre, the guides called him up and he was back within minutes. He drove me to other cemeteries and sites that I would not otherwise have been able to see and drove me to the station to catch the next train to Paris.

His kindness showed me that almost a century later the kinship forged between our countries was still strong. The gentle man, as I was told in the visitors centre, was known locally as the 'grandpere des guides' - the grandfather of the guides.

Morgan Ip, Ottawa

Internet Friends

I make friends with people on the internet all the time. I’ve been doing it for almost 10 years now. Sometimes I actually meet these people in person (like my friend Jackie in London, England) and sometimes I don’t. Certain people I don’t want to meet but others I definitely do.

Laurie Perry is one of them. She writes a blog that is so wonderful, I can only hope to emulate her one day with my writing. She’s such a gifted writer, she’s actually published a book called: Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk, Divorced And Covered In Cat Hair: The True-life Misadventures Of A 30-something Who Learned To Knit After He Split.

The cute title belies the content. Laurie went through some “stuff” during her separation and divorce. No matter where you are in your life at the moment, you will relate, in some way, to her personal struggle and the success she has obtained as a result. You can buy it online at Chapters/Indigo.

Or simply do what I did: go to Coles and ask them to order it for you. If we buy enough of these books in Canada, she just might come up here for the book signing trip. (Note to all my American readers -- this book is available at Barnes & Noble and through Amazon.)

If you can’t buy the book, at least check out her blog: Crazy Aunt Purl.

October 9 (Coming Home)

Our final morning started with rain but it cleared by 11AM when Trevor arrived to collect us. We had a leisurely time in the morning, getting packed up and ready to leave. We were a little worried about our luggage weight (although we tried to keep our spending to a minimum) but figured we would just pay the penalty for the flight home. We knew we were over the limit on the flight from Paris so we were expecting the worse. Trevor drove us to the Station in Darlington, and we bought some sandwiches there to eat on 2.5 hour train ride. We met a couple of sisters from Wales on the platform by commenting on their two dogs, Honey and Jack. Honey was a Westie and Jack was a Yorkie. One of these days, we’re going to get a dog … :)

We arrived Manchester airport without incident and our flight left exactly on time (without any excess baggage charges for either of us) and, in fact, we arrived 45 minutes early at 6PM. The Thomas Cook flight home was a dream compared to the flight over -- roomy cabin, great food (on an airline!) and fun crew. The only negative thing was the fact that the movie was Shrek III. Is this movie playing on every single airline in the world right now? LOL When we arrived in Toronto, there were HUGE lines at customs. I don't know the reason for that because it was a Tuesday night. But after a 1/2 hour, we were through and our luggage was already there, waiting. The carousel had stopped before we got there. We grabbed a taxi, got caught in traffic on the 401 (what a welcome home!) and arrived home at 7:30PM. The only time I used my MasterCard was to pay the driver and when I checked my account online the next day, I found $60 in fraudulent charges from the taxi company, supposedly for the day before when I was still in the UK. I am fighting that out with Bank of Montreal as we speak.

Our trip was over but we have so many wonderful memories. This blog is a great way to help us remember what we did and where we went. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

JAM xo